


blackout

by yijeong



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Hearing Voices, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kinda, Schizophrenia, Threats of Violence, Violent Thoughts, i guess?, lapslock, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 09:15:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17619641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yijeong/pseuds/yijeong
Summary: junhui figured he’d struggle with it for as long as he could, until he ended up killing someone else or himself.he desperately hoped it was the latter.





	blackout

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 4:30am.. haa...  
> uhh.. ‘nother vent fic i guess  
> it’s the second longest thing i wrote   
> sofar i think..

junhui’s hands stayed glued to his sides as he leaned back against the wall, his breath coming out in shallow huffs. he closed his eyes as he let out a scream, anguish evident in his voice.

the chinese boy sunk down to his knees, moving his hands to grip his hair tightly. his small frame shook violently as he pulled at the dark locks framing his face, trying to get his vision refocused as it blurred and contorted everything around him.

“get it together,” his voice came out a harsh whisper and he repeated it again, and again, until he practically chanted it under his breath.

“god dammit!”

junhui released his grip on his hair and his hands hit his thighs with a heavy thud, immediately sinking his nails into the flesh. he squeezed hard until angry red half moons appeared, but he didn’t stop until blood beaded along the edges.

if he didn’t hurt himself, he’d hurt someone else. the thought made his stomach twist into uncomfortable knots and sent a wave of guilt throughout his body.

there wasn’t an exact time that junhui could pinpoint when the violent thoughts started. he used to only have them towards himself, but he found his sanity slowly slipping as thoughts of him hurting his family creeped into his skull at random times.

 

junhui first had a thought when he was looking in the bathroom mirror. 

_ it’d be so easy to kill your mom.  _

a tiny voice whispered in the back of his skull and sent a jolt of shock up his spine.

_ she’s sleeping on the couch, jun. wouldn’t it be so easy to take one of those new, shiny knives and drive it into her neck? or maybe her skull? she wouldn’t even be able to fight back, you’d be able to fuck her up so bad, jun. _

“s-stop,” junhui nervously stammered the word out as his eyes grew wide and he tumbled back a bit, a genuine fear of himself developing rapidly throughout him. why did his mind say these things to him? the fear grew more intense as he gripped the sink until his knuckles went white.

why did he actually consider it?

 

the second time, it wasn’t a thought, but an action when his sister rudely invaded his room.

junhui held a weird level of protectiveness over his room, his heart racing rapidly whenever someone else was in his space, or even just standing in his doorway. it made his skin crawl and panic blossom in his chest, he felt like he his own sanctuary was being invaded.

so when his sister busted in his room without permission (not that junhui would’ve granted it,) the chinese boy felt immediate fear, almost falling off his bed as he jumped.

“get out!” he didn’t mean to yell so harshly, but the words left his mouth automatically.

“i don’t have to listen to you,”

his sister’s words made his blood freeze, and he gnawed on his lower lip. he opened his mouth to repeat himself, but stopped as he saw her start to touch his personal items on his dresser.

junhui scrambled to his feet without hesitation and grabbed the first thing he could find.

an eyebrow razor. he didn’t have time to think about why he didn’t put the protective cap back on it as he gripped the handle.

she just laughed in his face and grabbed the older boy’s wrists, a taunting look on her face.

“s-stop it, seriously,” junhui twisted and turned to try and get out of her hold, “let me go!”

when she didn’t let up, instead holding his thin wrists tighter, he didn’t think before twisting the razor in his grip, facing it towards her skin.

“i’ll fucking do it, let go!”

junhui was shouting now, tears pushing at his eyes. as he moved to cut the hand holding him, it disappeared and he watched his sister run out of his room and into her own, slamming the door shut.

all he did was stared at the razor in his hand before setting it back into the top drawer. 

_ you should’ve cut her, jun. you were so close. i bet she would’ve never messed with you again, don’t you agree? _

he just stumbled over to his bed and collapsed into a ball, pulling the strawberry patterned duvet over his head and hugging his stuffed rabbit closely. would he have actually cut her if she didn’t let go? junhui didn’t like entertaining the thought.

 

since those events, junhui found the intrusive thoughts bothering him more frequently, and his urges to hurt someone grew the longer he resisted them.

the only way he kept them subsided was to take the aggressions out on himself, beating his legs until they bruised dark colors all over, stabbing his hand with a pen until angry red bumps swelled up, digging his nails into his wrists so viciously he’d bleed.

he felt helpless every time. 

the chinese boy knew he couldn’t get help, he was scared to say anything about it to anyone, scared it’d feed into the whole “schizophrenics-are-violent-and-murderous” stereotype that he worked so hard to avoid up until now.

junhui figured he’d struggle with it for as long as he could, until he ended up killing someone else or himself.

 

he desperately hoped it was the latter.


End file.
